Phoenixville: Noun. A small town outside of Philly with little to arguably nothing to do. Although tiny in magnitude, the spirit of Phoenixville alumni will always be connected. Here are a few signs you graduated from the Ville.

You had Abdul as a coach in well...anything…

“Sir, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“THATA WAY!!!”

You never understood the Wawa postup.

Do I have to have a 1990 F150 to be in the Wawa Parking Lot Post Up Club? Are there specific meeting hours after dark? How do I apply for membership? If you’re not a part of the never-ending cool kids Wawa club, you surely have had something yelled at you by them while trying to get a hoagie.

You’ve been sent to I.S.S at least once.

Like for the time you lightly ball-tapped one of your friends (with your foot). Or that time you put a live beetle on your classmate’s PSSA. It wasn’t hard to be sent to I.S.S...or was it just me? Either way, I.S.S was pretty much fun and games (literally, they let you use computers).

Half of your money in high school went to Rocco’s.

Or not, because you were getting free shit all the time. Rocco’s is the only place I could go into with two singles and come out with a full stomach.

You were annoyed when younger kids were at Rocco’s.

“What the fuck is that freshman doing in Rocco’s?” - me, a sophomore, after spending my entire freshman year in Rocco’s.

No sexual scandal surprises you.

Sexting scandal of 2014? Over it. Special Ed teacher busted on child porn charges? Eh. PRINCIPAL of Phoenixville Area Middle School getting arrested and detained for child pornography? That one was a surprise. Seriously though, I always thought Dr. C was always a good guy.

You got threatened to be beaten up at least once in middle school.

Let’s be honest, when Barkley, EP and Schuylkill emerged, things got...rough. We all figured each other out, but not without a few fist fights and threats. I remember my dad teaching me, “Walk away first. If they don’t let you walk away...give them hell.” Thanks Pops. For some reason I have a feeling he didn’t have that conversation with his parents at Conestoga.

You rallied for your troops.

Anytime anybody got in trouble (often) everybody banded together to dispute the injustice. “FREE XXX” became the new movement after somebody was suspended (XXX was caught trading addies for xanax in Varady’s class? He was set up!) A shrine was made out of one of my classmate’s empty desk after he got sent to alternative school. When one of our classmates got sent home at graduation for drinking 40’s in the bathroom, all of our spirits were dampened. In a school so small, your troops are your troops.

The smartest man in the building of PAHS spoke in a special code.

Me: I have a question

Hoffman: Herpy shnerp?

You took L rides through the back roads of Kimberton.

My brother’s friends did it, my friend’s little sister does it, it’s a timeless tradition. When all of the bullshit of pville is getting to you, it’s time to grab some dutches from the big Wawa and burn to some wanna-be ghetto music. Just try to avoid your friend’s mom when you’re grabbing the blunts (I promise, she will be in line next to you).

You got in trouble at a football game at least once.

Tailgating in the parking lot with Natty, storming the field, screaming highly inappropriate chants, mosh-pitting and hurting each other in the stands...it’s not a Phoenixville football game if somebody didn’t fuck up.

I could have applied to Villa Maria, or Notre Dame, or any other private Main Line school. Would I have fit in? Chances are not. Because my inner rachetness comes from a special place, far away, where everybody loves and shits on each other - but we accept one another. I accredit so much of who I am, but also who I am not, to Phoenixville. The people and things I was exposed to will forever ground me. Life isn’t about money, test scores, and good looks. It’s about embracing those around you, and learning from them.

Thanks, Pville. For teaching me I could miss 22 days of school a year and still graduate. For teaching me what it means to stand up for myself, even when I’m afraid. For granting me the privilege of growing up with the funniest, most genuine, absurd people I’ve ever met.

Pville proud. Always.